Not So Mad
by NotMarge
Summary: Hello there. I'm Hatter. The one and only. And that being said, I'm here to clear a few things up.
1. Prologue

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

* * *

Hello there. I'm Hatter.

The one and only.

And that being said, I'm here to clear a few things up.

About me.

What I am. Who I am. Why I am.

First off, Wonderland is _not_ a kid's story.

Just in case you were misled to believe otherwise.

And anyone who says different is selling something.

Also, I don't wear _loads_ of makeup like one of your silly stage clowns.

Well, maybe just a touch of liner sometimes for flare . . . never mind.

And I don't dress in outlandish, garish clothing.

Much.

But I do wear hats.

A lot.

I _love_ hats.

A good hat is the perfect topping to a perfect cake, so they say. Whoever 'they' are.

Anyway . . .

I don't futterwacken or sing (except in the shower) or celebrate me unbirthdays.

I'm not a hundred year old ancient guy.

I don't think.

Hang on, give me a second.

Wonderland times your world . . .

Um, do you have an abacus?

Never mind, I'll figure it out later.

Anyway, I'm not quirky or barmy or mad.

Well, not frequently.

And I don't sit around aimlessly riddling at bizarre, insane outdoor tea parties with singing, hallucinogenic woodland creatures.

I mean, I do _like_ tea. I drink it all the time. It's the perfect swill for nearly any occasion. And there are so many different varieties! For instance . . .

Look, maybe it would be better if I just start from the beginning, yeah?

Back before Alice and her blue dress.

Before Jack and his snooty princeliness.

Before Charlie and his nonnies.

Back before all of it.

When I was just me.

Hatter.

* * *

**Hey, anybody out there interested in this?**

**Leave a review if you like.**


	2. Things I Would Not Recommend

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

Things I Would Not Recommend

* * *

I would not recommend venturing into the forest of Wabe. Or peeing on angry Jabberwock's head.

I would not recommend most of the things I've done in me life, actually.

But I did them just the same.

And I'd probably do them again.

Most of them.

* * *

It had been a good morning, all in all.

At least in the minds of a couple of rough and tumble kids like us.

Me and March'd snuck out of the city, stealthily avoiding the Suits at any and all costs. They'd take a kid to the Queen as easily as they'd take an oyster.

Pantsed the ugly old ratcatcher. Again.

And somewhere along our wanderings, discovered a motorboat floating and tied to a rickety pier.

Never could get the trick to the pull motor thing hanging off the back.

But the ignition worked just fine.

So we took it.

And fought over who got to steer.

March won and I secretly didn't mind. He was a coupla years older than me and I gave in with me usual bluster and bluff. It seemed too big and scary for me, that boat. Like I would flip it over into the drink and drown us in the process.

Maybe when I was bigger I'd give it a shot.

We rode around the lake awhile chasing birds on the wing and arguing over the validity of cactus races versus ostrich races and other random topics that popped into our rambling brains.

As we neared the softly lapping shores of the forest of Wabe, I peered eagerly into its depths, hoping for a glimpse of a borogove or a bandersnatch. Possibly even a Jabberwock.

"There used to be knights in those forests, they say," March relayed.

I glanced over to see if he was giving me flights of fancy but he seemed just as serious and eager as I suddenly felt.

"Really?" I ventured, trying not to sound impressed.

He nodded, slowing our speed 'til we drifted along lazily on the currents of the lake.

"Yeah. They fought against the Queen and she destroyed them all."

I folded me arms across the side of our vessel and rested me head on them, staring at the copse of trees.

"They were crafty though," he continued adamantly. "If we could find one, maybe he could get rid of the Queen."

Then me mother wouldn't resort to Tea for her comfort. She'd pick herself up and be a person again, a functional mother maybe.

Me father would come back for her.

And we'd be finally be a family.

I sat up and looked at March.

"Well, what're we waiting for?"

* * *

We didn't find the mythical knights in the forest of Wabe.

But we did find something else in the woods that defied imagination.

An angry Jabberwock.

It broke out of its den and roared our deaths at the top of its voice.

"Climb that tree!" March yelled at me as the roaring creature stormed at us.

We did, each his own towering, sky straining structure.

And waited.

The Jabberwock stomped around below, rageful and frustrated that we were out of reach. Every so often it'd bang its head into one of our trees and rattle our guts. But apparently that hurt its head and so it eventually stopped. Which was good 'cause me tiny boy bits were getting a bit chafed and tender.

So we waited, each perched on a limb, clinging to the trunk in a death grip.

The Jabberwock didn't seem to be losing any steam at all.

But I had a growing, more urgent problem.

"March? I have to pee."

I tried not to sound petulant. He sighed in frustration anyway.

"Hold it, Hatter."

Easy for him to say. He hadn't drunk a whole concoction of Antiquated (guess that's why it failed, yeah?) Courage before setting forth on this little venture of ours.

"Okay."

A few seconds later . . .

"But, March, I need to _go_."

He looked exasperated.

"Seriously?"

I felt like a fool, but there was no denying the truth.

"Well, yeah."

March considered this. Then gestured.

"Well then, get him."

I stared at him in disbelief. He grinned wickedly like Chesh stealing a thought.

I looked down at the raging monster below us.

_I really shouldn't . . ._

But when was I ever going to get another opportunity like this?

So I did it.

I peed on the Jabberwock's head.

He didn't like it. He shook his hand like a dog shaking off water off. He roared. He sneezed. I think.

_Hope he has a short memory span. _

Vaguely, I thought I heard a voice echoing in the distance. Something with a 'nonny' in it or something.

The Jabberwock caught the sound as well and stomped off in the directions of the warble.

March and I waited for ten minutes. Or, in kid Wonderland time, roughly a thousand years.

The great beast's trumpeting had faded. So had the warbling.

Finally, I couldn't take the quiet anymore.

"March?"

He didn't glance my way.

"Yeah?"

He seemed to be only hazily aware of me presence.

"I want to go home."

He didn't answer right away. Seemed to be caught up in something.

"Yeah, okay. But can you _hear_ it?"

I listened. All was quiet. Eerily quiet.

"Hear what?"

His voice was dreamy, as if he were in another world.

"The trees. The forest. The _world_."

I listened some more. Didn't really hear anything. Didn't want to admit it.

"Yeah, I guess so."

He sighed again. I couldn't figure why this time.

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

**Okay, so according to NotMarge (yeah, we're mates), I'm supposed to talk **_**more**_** down **_**here**_**. Be convivial and what not to the readers and reviewers or some such thing.**

**So hello, **_**ladies**_**. Many sincere thanks to ImagineWho (I don't know, who?), BubbleWrappedKitty (I think we've got those in Wonderland actually) Aiyobi Uzamaki (sorry, love, don't think I can pronounce that), and kelleyj (sounds like one of Alice's pop singers) for encouraging me story to continue. **

**But don't expect me to lay this story out all neat and nice and in a chronological line for you. Where'd be the fun in that?**

**And uh, . . . yeah, that's about it. Yep.**


	3. No Fairy-Tale, This

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

No Fairy-Tale, This

* * *

How to describe being a kid in Wonderland?

Hmm, well that's a thinker.

I'll give it a whirl.

Ever been to circus or a carnival funhouse?

Now, take that, turn it on its ear, take away the cotton candy and gumdrops and replace it with hallucinogenic 'shrooms.

Like that.

Only not at all.

I had a mum.

She was addicted to Tea.

I had a da.

He left 'cause me mum was addicted to Tea.

I had a cat.

But me mum traded him for Tea.

I had a best friend.

His name was March. He was like me.

He hated Tea.

* * *

Guess I should backtrack a little.

Kinda jumped in the water without checking for singing walruses, yeah?

Wonderland's a lot like places here in this world.

The further down you go, the more base the nightlife.

I was down there on level with the giant Snails and mudslugs.

What I mean to say is, we were low.

Only I didn't know it.

I just thought everybody was hungry and cold.

I thought everybody scrounged for food.

I thought everybody's mum was a shriveled up Tea-head.

I thought that's just the way life was.

Fact of the matter, she was always there when I came home. No latchkey kid for me.

Sometimes that doesn't mean too much, to be honest.

* * *

And a'course, Wonderland is a little unique in the naming department.

See, we're given temporary names at birth.

And when we're older we develop our own names. Or they're given to us.

I don't remember really having a name in the beginning.

Me Tea-addled mum mostly just called me 'boy'.

As in 'boy, bring Mummy some more Tea'.

And 'boy, remember to stay away from the Suits. They'll take you to the Queen and she'll cut off your head quicker than a cat's grin'.

Once, after I became the proprietor of the Tea Shop and came to visit, she mistakenly thought I was a 'Tea-paying suitor' come to call.

I wasn't.

But I did bring her Tea.

Me best seller.

Peace.

Because aside from everything that had and hadn't happened between us, she was still me mum.

Used up and tossed away by the Queen and her minions.

Once she had been a beautiful, blonde haired beauty practically worshipped in the courts of the Queen of Hearts.

She'd been wrapped deep in the clutches of Queen herself and given everything she could possibly desire.

And then my father, a Suit set to protect the Queen, had fallen in love with her.

The Queen grew angry and jealous of my mother. And decided to have her killed.

My father gave up everything to save her.

He sold out his friends, his family, everything to save her.

And took her away to reside in the dredging depths of Wonderland where no one would ever find her.

But _something_ found her.

The lust for Tea.

And me da stayed as long as he could.

And did whatever he had to provide her with her Tea.

When I was babe, I've heard tell, I screamed day and night because my mother's body was no longer supplying me with Tea.

I shook and wailed and no one could make me stop.

Me da tried to comfort me as me Tea-addled mum turned away into her cups.

I remember him when I was a young child.

He was gaunt and grim.

He hated that he had abandoned his family and friends for the empty, hollow shell of the woman who no longer thanked him but only begged for more, more, more.

And me, the needy child. Needy for sustenance, for love, for guidance and support.

I remember the last thing he said to me on the day he left our meager flat and disappeared.

"Stay away from the Tea, boy. Whatever you do. Promise me you'll stay away from the Tea."

I promised I would.

I didn't.

* * *

**Confession's good for the soul, they say. Who ****_are_**** these mysterious 'they' who know so much anyhow? Well, anyway, it's not doing me much good, I'll admit.**

**But I promised I'd tell me story properly and some of it ain't all cheerful nonnies and oyster smiles.**

**Anyway, a tip o' my hat to ImagineWho and kelleyj who enjoy a good laugh now and then it seems. Per'aps you'll forgive a bit o' serious here and there, yeah? **


	4. The Sage Rodent Specialist

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

The Sage Rodent Specialist

* * *

"Hey, kid, get away from that pier! You'll fall in!"

I jerked in surprise at the sudden intrusion, nearly falling in anyway.

He shambled over and pulled me off from the edge.

He was slimy and foul. With long stringy hair curtaining a stubbly, unshaven face. He stank of rats. His grip was pinching and awkward. I pushed him away roughly, swiping at the tears on me bruised face with the back of a dirty hand.

"You stink," I replied harshly, trying to cover for the fact that I'd been crying. Again.

He did stink. Always has. Always will. It's the cost of being the Ratman.

He was younger then than he is now. But then again, so was I.

But still greasy. Still smelly. Still the longhaired, grimy Ratman.

"And you've been sitting alone crying like a baby," he countered, not really unkindly.

I glared at him defiantly and said the most intelligent, argumentative statement I could muster.

"Nuh-uh!"

He raised a knowing eyebrow, holding my gaze stubbornly.

"Then what _have_ you been doing?"

I couldn't think of a single thing.

He nodded, moved around me, and knelt down to check his traps.

I watched him, pretending I wasn't curious.

Finally I couldn't resist.

"Why do you do that?"

He glanced back at me over one raincoated shoulder.

"What?"

I pointed.

"That. Catch rats. Don't you know it makes you smell bad?"

He stuffed the last of his captured booty into the bag and stood up slowly. Turning, he squared his shoulders and in that moment I saw more natural dignity in him than any other individual I had ever and would ever encounter in all of Wonderland before Alice.

"We all gotta job. We all gotta take care of ourselves and our families, boy."

I stood there and stared at him, completely stunned.

He shrugged nonchanltly.

"If this keeps food in my family's mouths, then I'll smell like rats and not complain, make no mistake."

His statement hit me full in the face. Me brain short-circuited and me eyes watered up all over again.

I resisted the urge to hug him. To ask him to let me be part of his family. To tell him he was a good man.

Instead, I childishly returned to the most important topic of all: me.

"Me mum don't take care of me like that," I complained pitifully. "She's got the Tea."

He stared me dead in the eye.

"Then you'll have to grow up, stop whimpering, and take care of _her_," he answered with finality.

Me fragile composure broke. I couldn't help it.

"But I don't _want_ to! It's not fair!"

He shrugged again, undisturbed by me petulant outburst.

"Life ain't fair. Don't excuse you from your responsibilities. You _still_ gotta be there when they pass the hat."

He reached out and lightly slapped the brim of me hat. I glared at him, readjusting it slightly, hoping it wouldn't stink of rat forever.

But I couldn't let it go just yet. I simply couldn't.

"What if I don't _want_ to?" I challenged obstinately.

This didn't faze him either.

"Ain't 'want'. Just 'do'. That's what it is to be a good person. Like you and me."

I resumed me glaring though it was becoming a tiresome exercise.

"How do _you_ know I'm a good person? You don't know me, _Ratty_!"

I tried to make it sound like an insult but he smiled anyway. I could see his rotted teeth. They were grey. And worn. And thin.

"Rats ain't the only thing I know, boy. I can see in you right down to your guts. You're a good person. You just have to _act_ like it."

I didn't know what to do with the Ratman. Nobody had really shown any belief in me at all other than what _I_ could do for _them_. He simply believed _I_ was _good_ because _I_ was _me_.

It was a big thought that I stubbornly let fly right over me little hatted head.

"I don't have to act like _anything_, _Ratty_!" I shot back.

Then I stomped away and didn't look back.

But I thought about it later.

I thought about it plenty.

And eventually decided I wanted to be like the Ratman.

Only not so ugly.

Or smelly.

Or ratty.

* * *

**And here you smugly thought you knew everything there was to know about ole' Ratty, eh? Well, then you were wrong then, weren't you? There's always more underneath the skin. No matter how smelly that skin might be.**

**_Sounds_**** like the Hatter, Joellen818? Well ****_a'course_**** it would! I ****_am _****the Hatter! Who else would I be? *pause* You're not on the Tea, are ya?**

**That bein' said, thanks for readin' it all in one swoop and bein' so encouragin', love.**


	5. What's a Hatter Without His Hat?

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

What's a Hatter Without His Hat?

* * *

I vividly remember the day I obtained me very first hat.

In this world, I'd guess you'd say I was about eight.

Walking along one day and wind blowing through the back alleys and down into the yawning chasms past the sidewalks.

I was hungry and cold and alone.

I was angry and sullen without really being able to verbalize specifically why.

Nothing really new for me then.

And then it came drifting down from the higher levels of the city.

It was grey and black plaid striped. Ragged around the edges.

It was headed for the open space beyond the footpath.

I watched its descent apathetically.

And then without warning, me insides suddenly clenched up and screamed.

_I WANT THAT HAT!_

I waited until the very last second and jumped straight up as high as I could.

And missed.

It fell beyond me grasp and I sighed.

Just as it floated down past me vision, it stopped.

And hovered.

I watched it, mystified.

Then the hat rose slowly, flipped over once and started making curly cues in the air.

A smile appeared below it.

Then eyes.

The vague semblance of a nose and whiskers.

"Up and down and all around goes the little hat . . ." the mouth singsonged.

The disembodied voice was deep and mellifluous. It immediately held a hypnotic sway to me captivated ears. It was a beautifully dangerous, low, predatorial voice.

But all I could see was the hat.

"Now it's lost and now it's found; what will you give the cat?"

The hat hovered just out of me reach. To tilt forward and clasp it in me greedy little hands would send me over the abyss. Screaming to my death. Hardly any time at all to enjoy my newly coveted prize.

Still, I considered it seriously.

"Little boy with bruised brown eyes; forever formulating, formulating lies," the entity continued.

_Oh brilliant, more rhymes._

Now I was aggravated and feeling dangerously exposed.

"I don't want that stupid hat," I ventured insolently.

Though me eyes still followed it in its wandering paths.

A snicker from the empty space below the hat. Then it continued.

"Holes in your clothes, holes in your lies, what will you do to obtain your prize?"

Whoa, major red flag this was.

Rule 1 of this world or any other: Never promise anything to anybody that you don't trust. Or anyone you do for that matter.

Rule 2 of this world or any other: Note above especially if you are a kid. Or anyone.

Still, it was a lovely hat. And I was just a destitute kid.

"Whaddya want?" I asked suspiciously, still eyeing the titillating hat.

The hat seemed to giggle and me blood ran cold at the sound.

"Stone of Wonderland, lost to the knights, sledgehammer man lends to the fights."

It made no sense to me. _Why_ would, _how_ would, _I_ find the Stone of Wonderland?

I was just a kid.

"Caterpillar's chosen ready to fight; will you stand or take your flight?"

I rubbed me temples absently with me dirty fingertips. I was getting a dull, throbbing headache from attempting to decipher the rhymes and see a face that wasn't technically there.

"I'm all done here," I adamantly told the floating hat. "I'm all rhymed out. Now give me the hat or let me get out!"

_Oh blimey, now _I'm_ rhyming._

The hat hovered above me head, teasingly close yet still out of reach. The nearly invisible creature keeping it from me giggled again.

Finally I gave in.

"Fine, whatever, I'll help the wiggly worm and find a construction fella to help 'em too. Now can I have the hat?" I huffed, holding out one hand.

The eyes seemed to glow for moment as the hat danced above me head. The voice wrapped its last resonances around me almost as a caring embrace.

"Your words are your stock and trade, my lad. Beware, take care they do not run you bad."

And then the voice and its floating features dissipated, leaving the hat to fall into me reaching hands.

I nearly dropped it in me exuberant joy.

Shame would have been, that. Especially after surviving so many brain-numbing rhymes.

Gripping it tightly, I backed up against the crumbling wall as far away from the ledge as I could get.

"Got my new hat, no thanks to the cat," I muttered to thin air.

_Oh Jabberwock ballocks. There I go again._

I might have caught a fading giggle faintly on the wind but I couldn't be sure.

I jammed me new hat on me head and hurried away.

* * *

**I've still got that hat. Or did in Wonderland rather. Comfy lil' thing it was.**

**Thanks ever so much to FanWriter83 and Eliri93 for your encouragement here. You will of course remember to write, won't you?**


	6. A Warning Against Strange Teas

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. Since it's my story.

Not So Mad

A Warning Against Strange Teas

* * *

You have to be careful with imbibing strange substances, I've learned.

They can lead to massive headaches and mysterious aches and pains.

And run-ins with vampiric sunflowers.

Maybe I should explain.

I was a young man. A teenager in your world, I guess you'd say.

I was attending this polite and well-mannered gathering of close and trusted companions.

Nope, nope, said I wouldn't lie.

I was at this mile high Tea party with a bunch of people I'd hardly ever met before.

Yeah, that's more to the truth.

And somebody passed me a flask of, well, _something_.

I was young.

I was immortal.

I was an idiot.

And I drank it straight off.

I didn't even ask any questions or anything.

Honestly, to this day I'm _still_ not sure _what_ that Tea was.

Euphoria, perhaps. Or Elation.

I can tell you it was orange-ish and smelled like the illusory remembrances that float in on zephyrs of waking dreams.

It tasted like bitterness, then sweetness, then death, and then boneless wonder.

Then it swept me away and made me taste colors I'd never smelled. Hear voices I'd never touched.

I've never experienced anything like it before or since.

Because once was enough for an entire lifetimes of lime-bathing rapture.

But it was plenty good, I can tell you that.

More than that, it was _amazing_.

Until it wasn't.

And I woke up in a field. Flat out on me back. Hat still clutched in one hand, thankfully.

Blue skies with white puffy clouds held sway overhead.

All those clouds had amazing, constantly-shifting shapes, fantastically wise voices whispered titillatingly confusing stories.

As I stared at them and held deep and meaningful conversations with each one, my other senses kicked in one by one.

The green grass beneath me was made of shards of ragged glass and tipped with searing fire.

And I couldn't bring meself to care.

Me tongue tasted like the underside of a dead Bandersnatch's mud-smeared carcass. It was swollen and dry because all the beautiful, delightful Tea was all gone, drained out of me over saturated pores as I lay boneless and lost.

I could smell the truth of the air and light within each sunbeam. The beginnings of the world and end of it all. A wet, dusty, dry fire of all consuming pity and finality. And the sweet light and relief of oblivion.

Sweet singing filled the hollows of me head, high-pitched, rhythmically hypnotizing.

I needn't attempt to understand the words, for there were none. These tunes being sung were created back before the dawn of the universe.

To understand them would be to hold the mystic forces of life in all beings great and small.

I found I was able to move me eyes a little and rolled them lazily to the right.

The vampiric sunflowers were staring at me.

I knew they were vampiric sunflowers, you see. Because when I looked at them and they turned their heads to face me, they smiled.

And I could see their fangs, bared and dripping with deadly venom.

Then they hissed, bending low to reach the sweet, tangy blood in my sluggish veins.

The notion of me impending death at the biting teeth of blood-sucking perennials caused me entire body to jerk into action.

I clumsily dragged me disheveled, Tea-sickened self out of there quicker than you could say lemon cakes and custard drops and yours on bottoms and mines on tops.

And made a serious decision.

_No more Tea._

Which I'm sorry to say I didn't keep.

Well, not yet anyway.

* * *

**According to the guy in the secondhand clothing shop I frequent, I believe the colloquial term for the condition I was experiencing was the I was hiiiiiiigh. He also mentioned some bloke or other by the god-like moniker of 'Titus' but I haven't spoken with him on the issue yet. Apparently he's busying himself killing babies with comedy or some such thing. Sounds frightful and disturbing to say the least. **

**And I don't recommend it.**


	7. Playing with the Queen of Hearts

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. Since it's my story and all.

Not So Mad

Playing with the Queen of Hearts

* * *

Now, to be honest, most of your tales and stories of Wonderland are just crazy little twists on a more disturbing truth.

But some of them edge close enough up to the line of Wonderality.

The Queen of Hearts is one of them.

I thought I had it all wrapped up and cinched, me double life of Tea Shop owner and undercover Resistance unsung hero. All wrapped up like a present on Futterwaken Day (Hey, I didn't _deny_ we had Futterwaken Day, I said _I_ didn't _dance_ it. Big difference.).

Nice and snug and tight and clean, me and all me secret identities.

I was wrong.

They were on to my scheme of teaming up with the Resistance and skimming off the top of the Hearts' commission to provide what I could for Dodo's refugees thing.

And when the Suits stepped into me Tea Shop, I knew I'd stepped into some deep borogove droppings, make no mistake.

They arrested me. Right in front of all me Tea addled patrons. And Dormie.

Who nearly gave itself a heart attack amidst the repeated spectacle of fainting dead away and reviving long enough to offers them briberies of Tea.

I'da been embarrassed if I wasn't so convinced I was about to be dispatched and me body turned into shrubbery mulch.

* * *

I remember the trip to the Hearts Casino as a blur. With pretty much the same thought theme running through me head over and again.

_Never see that tree again. Goodbye, Tree. _

_That's the last of that dilapidated old warehouse, then. _

_Farewell, Pristine Lake Water. _

_You know, I'll really miss that nauseating sensation of stomach bile that means I'm not dead and bloated . . ._

* * *

_Blimey, this is a posh place to die._

That was me first thought when they opened the door to the Queen's court.

Bright and white and red and shiny.

Clean looking and immaculate.

Not a drop of blood anywhere to be seen on the polished white floor.

Everyone standing just so with carefully blank expressions on their politely drawn faces.

I was terrified.

"Hello, Hatter."

And there she was.

The Queen herself.

She should have been someone's lovable auntie. Comfortably round woman in a loose red and white muumuu.

She should have been gossiping and playing at cards and sneaking you sweeties and taking you off on holiday.

Her melodious, refined voice was cordial, on the surface. Underneath it was swimming with slippery eels of madness and barely contained fury.

And one look in her forbidding face made it perfectly clear she was plotting me imminent demise.

I set meself still and replied with the air of one attending a luxurious party instead of me own beheading.

"Good day, Majesty."

I wasn't being polite in the hopes I would live. That was a null and void notion from the get-go.

I was being genial because I was the Hatter.

And the Hatter is always smooth.

I thought she would interrogate me. Have me beaten. Pronounce me sentence without trial or consideration.

I was wrong.

She did something much worse.

She recited poetry at me.

Approaching me slowly and with great subtle flair of macabre, she set herself upon me as a slinking serpent to its prey.

"The Queen of Hearts . . . she made some tarts . . . all on a summer's day," she recited lightly, in her carefully cultivated royal nuances.

Walking 'round me in a slowly tightening orbit, speaking deliberately and in the quiet enthusiasm and aplomb of the truly mad.

"The Knave of Hearts . . . he _stole_ those tarts . . . and took them clean away."

I resolved to keep calm and evenly track her approach. Well aware I might unscrew me own neck from attempting to maintain a line of sight.

"The King of Hearts . . . called for the tarts . . . and _beat_ the knave full sore."

She was smiling now, like a shark having caught the scent of living blood.

I could feel the suits gathering around me, around us. Her piercing gaze driving directly into me brain. I was very close to death, I knew. I repressed a shudder.

"The Knave of Hearts . . . brought _back_ the tarts . . . and vowed he'd steal _no_ _more_."

She stopped walking. Dead center in front of me. Silent and waiting.

I knew she wanted me to burst forth in confession and beg forgiveness.

I wouldn't do it.

I set still inside meself, picked up me defensive slabs of fortitude and began to shore up me mental barriers.

"Hatter?"

_. . . why is a raven like a writing desk . . ._

"Yes, Majesty?" I replied, trying to sound casual.

Her eyes bore into me soft tissues like an iron drill. Her false smile dried up into a intense frown.

"Are _you_ the Knave, Hatter?"

I swallowed slowly. Took a deep breath slowly.

_Do it all slowly. Don't let her see you sweat. Don't rush. Be still. Be calm._

Shook me head slowly.

"Nope. I'm the Hatter. As you can see. By me hat."

_Shut up. Don't talk too much. Makes you sound nervous._

"You wouldn't . . . _steal_ from your dear Queen . . . would you?"

I shook my head, keeping me eyes trained on her.

_. . . clockwork's not ticking properly . . ._

"No, a'course not," I responded easily.

She smiled briefly, eyes glittering like black, cutting diamonds. She waited another moment for me to lose composure.

I didn't. Was a close shave though.

Finally she spoke. Her words were a deception. Her voice was a lie.

"Good, that's _good_."

She patted me arm affectionately. I could feel the hate and cold pouring off her in waves, freezing me flesh to the bone.

_. . . maybe crumbs in the butter . . ._

"Because if you do, I'll cut out your heart. And cut off your head."

I nodded, keeping me face relaxed and focused on her hypnotic gaze.

"Wouldn't expect any less, Y' Majesty."

She nodded, her searching eyes narrowing further.

"Excellent. With that in mind, the good Doctors have prepared a . . ." she paused and smiled again, her painted lips looking hungry and bloody. ". . . _tutorial_ of sorts for you. To remind you of your _place_ in _my_ realm, Hatter."

Me rattling heart dropped dead into me feet and it was all I could do to remain upright and stoic.

She tilted her head slightly to a pair of the Suits over my shoulder and they came forward to claim me.

"You _will_ let me know what you think of their little . . . seminar. _W__on't_ you, Hatter?"

And then they took me away.

* * *

**Yeah, bit of a cliffhanger, that. But the telling shook me so that I needed to stop and revive meself with a cuppa. **

**There's more to the telling if you'd care to hear. But I suggest reading it in the light. I for one will be penning it sitting in a warm, sunny spot and still be chilled ice cold, if I'm honest.**

**So now that you've been fairly warned . . .**

**Tip o' me hat to the lovely HardfacedQueenofMisadventure. Who, Chesh? Ah, yes, I remember that lil' trickster quite well. More to tell, there. More indeed, if you'll lend an ear, my dear. *sighs heavily* Never really did get over that rhyming though, did I?**


	8. The Cruel Tutorial of Dee and Dum

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. Since it's my story and all.

Not So Mad

**(I've been advised to warn you that this chapter is a bit gruesome should you choose not to read.)**

The Cruel Tutorial of the Dee and Dum

* * *

They made me watch. They made me bear witness.

And I didn't stop it.

I wasn't a coward, mind. Not exactly.

But I kept thinking of them. All of them.

The refugees of Wonderland.

If I openly raised me hand against the Queen, the Suits, or the Doctors, I would fail them.

Because then I would be caught and tortured or killed. Then the refugees would go that much hungrier, that much more destitute.

And so I allowed those horrible creatures to make that one sacrifice to save hundreds, maybe thousands.

I wished I hadn't.

I didn't want to.

It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make.

It tasted like bitter fruit and ash in me mouth. Rotted tea leaves and shame.

And I'll never forget it.

Or her.

Or them.

The 'doctors'.

Dee and Dum.

Round, bald, psychotic, deadly little imps.

Faces like babies and hearts like maggot-filled corpses.

Frolicking gleefully in their deadly Truth Room.

The Truth Room was different for each person, I'd heard tell.

But one thing's the same.

And once you go in, you don't come back out. Alive.

For this young woman, no more than sixteen or seventeen in your world, the room was a sickly yellow and full of slithering, hissing, roiling snakes. They crawled the walls, wrapped themselves around her limbs, and kissed her face with their slick, forked tongues.

She was brave. As brave as she could be.

They, the doctors, they made me watch them do it to her.

Break her mind and her body.

That pretty little oyster.

As a lesson to not anger the Queen of Hearts.

"She's valuable to us. She's got pearls inside her. She's got the key to our Tea," one hissed in rhyme.

Then he tasered her and she screamed, tears streaming down her bruising face.

"You've got no pearls, none that we see, less valuable than a buzzing bee," the other quipped to me, his words like searing liquid gold.

He zapped her this time and she wailed long and quaveringly, her bloodshot green eyes floated up to me, beseeching me help.

There was blood in her short, mussed red hair, running down her pale face. And smeared on her quivering lips where she'd bitten them in her agony.

"Do you see," the merry doctors chorused, turning to me. "Little Bee, do you see?"

I nodded numbly, unable to speak, unable to look away. Unable to save her.

The refugees of Wonderland, they needed me. I could see. Oh yes, I could see.

And then the cruel monsters continued their brutal assault.

And she lasted as long as she could. The tender little oyster.

They made her cry and scream.

They made her beg and plead.

Then they made her die.

And when it was over, they made me remove her lifeless body and toss it down the garbage chute.

As I was unstrapping the bloodied cuffs, me face locked in a stone façade to hide the seething and screaming rage underneath, I felt them watching me with a lusty, repellant hunger.

When I rose up with the dead woman lolling bonelessly in me arms, I saw the doctors smiling. Like demonic vultures waiting to pick me flesh clean to the bone.

Their atrociously twisted expressions shouted so loudly I was nearly deafened where I stood.

_One day it'll be _you_ in that chair, Hatter. And then the fun will really begin, yes it will._

_Yes, such fun. Such fun indeed. We'll torture you until your insides are your outsides and your outsides are soaked in crimson._

_You'll _beg_ to be reborn in death. _

_And we won't give it to you. No way, no how._

_No, not us, not us, Little Bee. _

I held their penetrating gazes only because I chose to, cradling the dead woman in me trembling arms.

_Nope, not me. I'm a survivor. I'll do whatever I must._

_We shall see, Little Bee. We shall see._

They watched like voracious little demons to see if I would break.

And I did not.

Not until I was away.

And then I locked meself alone away within the inner chambers of me Tea Shop. Locked all the doors and shut off all the lights.

And alone in the blind embrace of the thick, lonely darkness, I broke very badly indeed.

* * *

**Told you this wasn't a kid's story. Didn't I? I **_**did**_** warn you, yeah?**

**Sorry you hung around for the telling, HardFacedQueenofMisadventure and kelleyj?**

**Well, next time you come 'round to me door, I'll try and find a funny or a sweetie to give you. 'Cause I'm a not a intentionally cruel Hatter. But an honestly dishonest one, as it were.**


	9. I Begin to Stink of Cheese

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

I Begin to Stink of Cheese

* * *

Ah, I remember well the first time I met with those odd denizens of the Great Library.

It was the day I first began to stink of cheese.

Because you see, living below in the depths of a land that's forgotten you and whose ruler wants you dead, can make one greedy. And desperate.

But don't worry. I promised in the last chapter I'd keep this one light.

And so I shall.

My employer, David, the man who ran the tea shop, asked me one day if I wanted to spit in the face of the Queen of Hearts.

I thought he meant literally.

I said yes on the spot.

And he sent me, with very detailed instructions, to the last stronghold of the Resistance.

The Great Library.

I was a bit disappointed, if I'm to be honest.

I'd been excitedly practicing working up me best rutabaga and mash salvia in preparation for the brilliant snark-a-lugie-and-run attack sequence I'd created in me feverish head.

And now I had to go talk to normal people on whom I could not spit.

Well, probably couldn't.

Most likely.

Nevertheless, I dutifully followed David's directions. Finally after much sideskitting and doublebacking to make sure I wasn't trailed, arrived at a dingy green door that looked like all the others.

When I banged on said door, a small rectangular slit of a peephole opened.

All I could see was a wizen, shrunken mouth behind which peeked gray, pocked teeth.

_Ratty? No, no stink of rats._

"How doth the Crocodile improve its shining tail?"

I nearly fell over at the puff of rancid breath accompanying the recitation of the ancient text.

_Got to add mouth cleaner to that supply list. Ugh. _

For a second the stench was so bad, I forgot me words and panicked. They'd never let me in if I wasn't confident and sure, I'd been told.

Finally after endless seconds, it came to me.

"And pour the waters of the Nile on every golden scale," I replied, feeling for the first time, and definitely not the last, like a complete wanker.

The door creaked open and I was hurried right into . . . a bus.

_Yeah, okay, nothing strange 'bout that, I'm sure. It's a bus. In a elevator shaft. In a building. Yeah._

The bent, gaunt, bearded octogenarian wore a little hat perched sideways atop his gray head and all I could think was '_duck'_.

Without another word to me, he slammed a few gears and switches this way 'n that.

And with a sudden jerk, we plummeted downward.

I grabbed hold of a standing pole to refrain falling forward on me face and willed me guts to stay in their place as the tottery old guy hummed tunelessly to himself, staring out the front window at the blank grey wall.

_Oh Jabberwock bollocks, I'm gonna die_, I thought. _He's mad as a box of frogs and I'm gonna die._

With another bone-jarring jerk, our bizarre transport stopped and I looked around, trying to quell me green gills.

I glanced at ancient man again, remembering to act all calm and smooth and not like I was about to heave me kumquats.

He jerked a gnarly hand toward the exit and I stumbled gracelessly out into the corridor of the Great Library.

And into the face of a short barreled shotgun.

Behind it was an equally gaunt, stern-looking woman wearing a housedress and sporting thick, pointy glasses, pursed lips, and a multicolored scarf that I swear was tied up like ears around the top of her head.

I gazed at this new creature and all I could think now was 'owl'.

"We haven't seen you here before," she trilled distrustfully.

But maybe she wasn't really as old and craggy as she looked though. I was a believer in the possibility of people after all.

Maybe she was really a peacock underneath all the drabness there. A little sun, a new dress, pull down that scarf . . .

_Nope, still a ruddy owl. Poor bugger._

"Yeah," I replied easily, keeping me hands peacefully raised in surrender. "I'm Hatter."

I touched me hat politely and offered her me best smile.

"What do you want?" she demanded, completely ignoring all me attempts at civility and grace.

_As if it's not obvious, my owlish dove? I wanted to futterwacken with you right here in the middle of the ruins of the Great Library. _

But that statement would probably get me shot right in the handsome mug so instead of saying that, I simply told the truth.

"I'm here to see Dodo."

She narrowed her eyes still further at me as the human duck piped up in me left ear. His voice was reedy and grizzled. I subtly held me breath to avoid the reek.

"Nobody sees Dodo. Nobody even knows who or where he is. Especially not strangers. Get back on the bus!"

I hazarded a glance back and replied cheekily.

"_Really_?"

I gestured to me pockets and the old woman watched me like a hawk (ahem, sorry, _owl_) as I reached down and drew out me own piece de resistance that David had given me to give them for just this occasion.

Cheese.

Little round wheels of cheese. Hardly more than a bite or two. But you'd thought I was waving around the best of the Queen's coveted tarts the way her beady little eyes (and his, I'd wager) followed them.

I held one aloft toward her and one back over me shoulder to him without breaking eye contact with the birdy little thing.

Silence reined in the corridor for only the briefest of moments.

Then the proffered cheese got the best of them both.

"Okay, Hatter," she relented, still obviously trying to sound rough and tough. "But one wrong move from you and I'll blow that pretty head to bits."

I smiled winningly at her as she snatched her smelly bribe from me hand.

And just couldn't help meself.

"Guns, yeah, cheers and all. But 'ave you seen me sledgehammer?"

A baffled expression greeted me as she glanced back over at the human duck behind me. I could practically feel him shrug as they began to unwrap their delicacies.

"Uh, there may be one at the construction site."

I refrained from facepalming meself.

I could only hope their boss would be a little more savvy.

* * *

And he was.

A little too much so for me liking.

Dodo was the last of his kind. And by that I mean he was the last fat, swarthy refugee in Wonderland. His generous girth made even more obvious by the aforementioned Owl and Duck flanking him like derelict, scarecrow sentinels.

"You must be Hatter," he proclaimed somewhat dismissively.

His voice was just as broad and round as the rest of him. He sounded like he was trying to eat the words themselves.

I nodded, thinking that unfortunately I was flat out of bribes and sweeties to give to him. Not that he would need it, judging by his generous proportions.

"And you're the infamous Dodo," I responded. "Glad to see you looking so well-fed in these hard 'n scrabble times."

He smiled darkly then . . .

_How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws . . ._

Chilling the blood in me veins . . .

_. . . and welcomes little fishes in with gently smiling jaws!_

. . . And the thought occurred to me that in his own way, he might be just as dangerous and mad as the Queen herself.

Then as I was musing over this new disturbing consideration, he got right to the point.

"You have been sent here by our mutual associate because our food stores are running low and our previous supplier is . . . no longer available to assist us. We need you to procure whatever you can for the poor starving souls hiding out here in the Great Library. They're depending on you now."

I nodded, trying to keep me outer countenance calm and blank even as me inner voice ran squawking and flapping around the darkened room like the rotund, flightless bird this madman so resembled.

_Yeah, sure, of course. But honestly . . . Dodo, is it? If everybody's feeling a bit empty and peckish, you sure you're portioning properly? There's definitely a sizable discrepancy between your circumference and those two lanky sods over there._

Good boy I am, though. I managed to keep me mouth shut.

That time, anyway.

* * *

**Hello again, ladies and gents!**

**Apologies for the delay. Me computer mate, NotMarge, went somewhat mental on some television program called American Horror Story. She even duct taped me to a chair and made me watch it, much to my dismay. And threatened to take away me hat if I didn't stop closing me eyes. I will say this for it, it is interestin'. Ya never know who's going to say or do what and frankly, I think Dee and Dum would really enjoy it. Though it might give them too many new fresh ideas. I mean, blimey, they've already got a headstart on the Rubber Man outfit, ya know?**

**All that aside, I finally stole her laptop while she was in the loo and hid meself in this closet to pen this chapter. Hope you've enjoyed the read and appreciate the outright danger I've put meself in to write it. **

**Thanks to ChiefPam (yeah, you should only listen to me; NotMarge is something of a lunatic at times but don't tell her I said), rats xp (relative of my ratcatcher pal, perhaps?), Bunny's daughter (you mean **_**the**_** Easter Bunny? Oh, love, you gotta stop by for a chat; I've got **_**loads**_** of questions), Penelope Zozes (thanks for the encouragement, then, I appreciate that, you know), **

**Thanks also to Ranger-of-ash (interestin' moniker you got there yourself) and Roazhonad (not sure I can pronounce that but I'm glad you're here all the same) for adding your support to my story. **

**Uh-oh, me thinks I hear footsteps outside me closet door. Cheers!**


	10. Not Exactly

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Though it's really me story anyway.

Not So Mad

Not Exactly

* * *

I wasn't entirely _lying_ to Alice when I told her I knew Caterpillar.

Only I didn't have loads of time for the whole story just then.

Besides, I was shivering and wet and cold on the beach at the time.

And Charlie, gods bless him, was standing there in his holey, long underwear.

It just wasn't the time for it, ya see.

I promised meself I'd tell it to her later.

See I haven't always had a sledgehammer arm.

That'd be completely mental.

Like having superspeed or superstrength.

Then I could be one of your cinema heroes.

Like Captain Thor.

Or Spiderguy.

All with a cuppa tea.

Anyway, I did meet him once.

Caterpillar, that is.

Sorta.

I was unconscious at the time.

So I more like met his voice floating through a hazy void of pain and fear rather than the whole person himself.

Technicalities, technicalities.

Oh, pardon?

What happened?

Oh, that's right, I'm here to tell a story, aren't I?

Been so long away I've nearly forgotten me purpose here.

Okay, where was I?

Ah, yeah.

Caterpillar.

And me.

Me and Caterpillar.

Not much to tell, really.

Oh, don't give me that look, you.

Fine, you want the story?

Well, here goes then.

* * *

"I'm sorry I brought him to you, sir! I didn't know what else to do!"

Jeez, Dormie sounded frantic and twitchy. Well, more so than usual.

_Take a fiver, Dormie. And keep your voice down. Let a guy die in peace, yeah?_

"That's fine, my friend. He does seem to have taken quite a beating, I see."

Ah, now, this was a new voice. One I'd never heard before.

It was as soothing as it was gravelly.

Like honeyed Serenity Tea and warming springs over rolling river rocks.

Wherever me body was, that's where they were.

And I was glad I wasn't.

The last time I'd seen it, me arm was bloody and shredded and barely attached to the rest of me anymore.

I'd been near the docks, sniffing out customers and avoiding the Suits.

Over the din of needy Wonderlanders, I'd heard a thin, high shrill.

Thought it was a cat.

Not like 'Chesh, but a real feline.

I'd edged near the water to have a look-see.

And instead found a child.

No more than ten, fallen in and drowning.

Or so I'd thought.

Stupid me, I reached out to grab it.

Instead of reaching out a hand for me to heave up to land, it opened this impossibly wide mouth.

And raked it all up and down me arm, flailing at me with its talon claws as it went.

Through a flash of searing pain and numbing shock, I saw it for what it really was.

In your world, those Chinese storytellers with the crossed legs sitting on rocks call it a Kappa.

River demon.

Water child.

See, it wasn't a bedtime story made up to frighten young children.

It was real.

And when the ancient warriors had nearly killed them all off, the few remaining found underwater passages and tunnels.

And crossed over into Wonderland.

They, those four foot long creatures with the child-like faces underneath and wicked killer frogs on top, were why Jabberwocks don't go near water.

And why Alice was lucky to get out of the lake alive that day.

And why Ratty was so edgy and nervous all the time.

I screamed at it, scrambling backward and fighting for my life.

People around were shouting and scrambling.

Not because they particularly cared about me, per se.

But because they didn't want to lose their best Tea provider.

The monstrous creature let me go and dove back into the water.

And my world went black and red.

Though the pain remained.

* * *

So as I've said, I was in a bad way.

And now apparently Dormie had summoned the great powerful Caterpillar.

Very much unlike your fairy tale story of the Great and Powerful Oz, just so you know.

And they, or their voices rather, hung above me.

Like an auditory tether stringing me down to me corporeal form.

Which by all clues, seemed to be doing quite poorly.

"He will lose the arm if we don't find someone of considerable skill to save it."

That Caterpillar, always calm and even. Didn't he see I was on me way to _dying_ here?

"What can we do? Who can help him?"

Dormie sounded close to outright panic. If it did, it would probably pass out.

_Hang on, Dormie. Don't lose your Tea._

A moment of silence as I drifted further into the peaceful void.

_Hey, this might not be so bad. Better than any Tea I've ever had. Mates, I think I'm good. Off you trot._

"There is one who might be just the person."

Scratching sounds, the crinkling of paper.

_Penning your prose _now_? Really? 'There once was a man from the dock. Who had a massively giant c-_

"Take this to Hearts Casino-"

A squeak of terror from me stalwart little friend.

"And give it to Decker of maintenance. He'll take you to a man called the Carpenter."

_Blimey, even out here in the blackhole of death, I can _feel_ Dormie quaking in its ha' penny loafers._

"Uh, okay, but, uh, do you, uh, think you could come with me, uh, to see the Carpenter?"

_Way to rally there, Dorms._

The answer was definite and conclusive.

"No. It is not time for me to see the Carpenter. His daughter is not yet ready."

_Well, I'm good and lost now on this exchange. At least I'm too busy dying to care._

Dormie was mute with terror. It practically rattled down the invisible silver cord keeping me anchored to Wondereality.

"I understand you are afraid, my friend. But if you don't go soon, he will lose the arm. And quite possibly die."

Swiping, crinkling sounds of that mystical paper exchanging hands encouraged me that Dormie was still conscious enough to save me life.

_Gonna have to give you a raise, Dormie, my friend. Or at least a really good sleeping pillow._

"Now take this green pill and swallow it," the surrushing tones of the Caterpillar directed. "And when the Carpenter gives you what you need, take the red one."

As I was considering what colors actually _were_ in my depthless, colorless, pain-filled void, I slipped away and knew no more.

* * *

The sun was bright behind me purple velvet curtains when I awoke on me couch in me Tea Shop office.

Alone.

Fully clothed.

And fully armed, so to speak.

There was no pain. There was no stiffness. There was no scar.

_Jabberwork ballocks. I've gone mad as a box of frogs. _

I grabbed a communicator from a nearby table, a gift from the White Rabbit, and barked into it.

"Dormie, I need you."

The responding squeak of anxiety was almost comforting in its familiarity.

"Yes, boss."

By the time me scurrying little friend arrived in me office space, I had stood, smoothed me clothing, and reset me hat on me head.

"Yes, boss?"

As if nothing out of sorts had happened.

I goggled at me beady eyed compatriot.

"Whaddya mean, 'yes'?! What the hell _happened_ out there on the docks?! Me arm was nearly ripped off! And now it's _fine_?!"

Dormie's mustached face twitched momentarily, then broke into a wide, humourous grin.

"What? Oh come on, Hatter, you're yankin' my cheese! Nothing happened except you pulled a drowning child out of the lake. Very heroic, I might add."

I glared at it, even as it for once refused to tremble.

"No, I didn't! It was a water monster! Nearly took me arm off! You had to take me to Caterpillar!"

Through the fear in its eyes, Dormie managed to laugh again.

"What? Who? Caterpillar? You mean that old Wonderland legend?"

Dormie glanced around conspiratorially.

"Sure you haven't been mixing Teas again, boss?"

I shook my head, infuriated.

"No, Dormie! I'm not joking! I'm not on Tea!"

Out of frustration, I impetuously hit the wall with me right hand.

Only to punch straight through, leaving a gaping hole around me fist.

I stared at it in shock.

_Pretty well certain I've never done _that _before._

My head turned of its own accord to stare at Dormie, who was practically shaking itself to bits.

And then cracked another sick, absolutely mad grin at me.

"Oh, look, sir! The termites have set up shop, as the Oysters would say! Better get something to cover that up, don't you think? A Picasso might do it! I think we have some in the storage room!"

And off it scurried, mumbling about Teaheads and them trading whatever useless trinkets they'd found lying around the Looking Glass district and how the people's heads looked like Swiss cheese.

And I was left alone to consider me right hand.

Punching through the wall had been like thin cardboard in your world.

Didn't even hurt.

A right sledgehammer, it was.

_Huh. I wonder what else I could hit with this._

* * *

**See, me discerning readers? Not really much to tell. Just as I said. ;)**

**Sorry I've been away for so long. This 'n that, you know. **

**But I hope you're still there 'cause there's more of the story to tell. **

**As always, much thanks and shakes to Analinea (whaddya mean, learn to **_**write**_**? I'm just telling me life stories), ThatGypsyWriter (ah, yes, NotMarge has told me so much about **_**you**_** – darling, aren't you?), HardfacedQueenofMisadventure (Christmas, yeah, Alice wrapped herself up in a red bow and . . . uh, never mind, love), and Penelope Zozes (muchness right back at ya, love) for leaving all those reviews back in the 'before' time. **

**As in before the New Year. Didn't know they come along so easily. Thought you had to order them on the iTunes or something.**

**What? Whaddya _laughin'_ for? Alice had the same reaction and wouldn't tell me why! Huh.**

***walks off grumbling to self***


	11. Foolishness of Youth

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Though it's really me story anyway.

Not So Mad

Foolishness of Youth

* * *

Here's a question for ya.

What do kids in your world do when they see an open door?

Go right through it, don't they?

Yep, 's what I thought.

Well, it's the same thing for us Wonderland kids too.

Which brings me to me next story.

The time I first met Alice Hamilton.

No, no, I'm not jumping ahead of me own timeline.

Though you are.

Reverse your gears and back up with me a bit, yeah?

Cheers.

I'm speaking of the time that me as a Wonderland kid went through the Looking Glass and stumbled into Alice's world to see her as a kid.

What?

Heard of this, have ya?

Wha', somebody's been nickin' me stories?!

Oh well, guess I'll tell me own version anyway then.

* * *

"You go."

"No. You."

"Baby."

"Fetus."

"Jabberwock droppings."

"Hearts' feces."

Things were getting heated between me and Mad March.

We huddled together, shoulder to shoulder.

In a high up hidey hole.

Above the Looking Glass.

It was in an open air room with plenty of space for a growing Wonderland kid to hide.

Suffice it to say, they moved it since then.

To a much more secure location.

I mighta had something to do with that.

"Alright," March sighed. "If you're too _scared_ to do it . . ."

Me idiotic, childish temper flared.

"I'm not _scared_! I'm . . . strategizing."

Yep, that was a load of smelly Bandersnatch offings.

I was well and truly petrified.

I didn't have a clue as to what awaited for me on the other side of that portal.

All I wanted was to turn tail and run.

Anywhere.

Well, not _any_where.

Hearts' Casino?

Nope.

The Jabberwock's Den?

Uh-uh.

So there were a _few_ places I wouldn't rather be.

But not many.

"So go ahead then, Hatter."

_Bugger him, why don't he go?_

Stuffing me heart full of fake confidence and painting bravery all over me face, I crawled down from me shared pigeonhole of safety.

And snuck to the Looking Glass.

It was huge and looked like nothing more than a fancy mirror.

I was almost up to it, could just see me reflection in its shiny surface . . .

'_Ello, you handsome git! Fancy a jot into another world then?_

. . . when I heard a guard behind me.

"Oi! What you doing there?! Get away from there, boy!"

_Never get caught by the Suits, never get caught by the Suits . . ._

And mute terror grabbed me by the scruff of me neck and threw me into the slick, shiny surface of the Looking Glass.

* * *

After a sickening, bewildering plunge through the wormhole, I landed with a bone rattling crunch on a cold, hard floor.

_Ooooh, my bits . . ._

Worried there was a Suit on my tail, I hobbled away from the Mirror and hid meself behind a fly ridden pile of rotting refuse just as he did indeed appear right on top of where I'd been splayed.

On his feet.

As if he'd done it before.

_I hate him. _

He searched the area, not coming too close to me reeking hideout and finally grumbling to himself, returned the way he'd come.

I stayed where I was, though the countdown on me watch had already passed fifty-three minutes.

_Better get going. Gotta have a story for March other than crushing me bits._

I worked me way out of the room and out into a realm I'd only heard whispers of before.

This world was big. Really big. And small at the same time.

And weird.

One thing, everything was on the _ground_.

Which was really disconcerting for me.

The buildings were tall.

And straight.

People walked along the sidewalk.

And there were these really loud metal things with _more_ people in them, moving down a paved path.

A woman elbowed the man next to her as she walked, pointing at one of the metal things.

"That's it, Aaron! That's the car I want! A Mini Cooper!"

The guy grinned at her.

"Why do you need that, Katie? We live ten minutes from everywhere."

They jovially continued their conversation, moving further away from me.

And I stayed stuck right there, staring out at this strange world.

_'Car'. Those are cars. And people use them instead of walk. Huh. Well, they sure smell bad. _

Finally I figured I'd better move before somebody noticed an odd little hatted chap staring at 'cars' like he'd never seen 'em before.

So I moved.

In Wonderland, people snuck everywhere.

Like they didn't want to be seen.

To avoid the Suits. To avoid the Hearts. To avoid each other.

These people didn't seem to be quite so worried about that.

They seemed . . . relaxed.

Happy.

Most of them anyway.

_Blimey, this is a weird place. _

I wandered past a stand with a guy handing out some long skinny meat food wrapped up in a long skinny bread thing.

"Three-fifty," I heard him say to his customer.

_Three and fifty Teas just for that?!_

But the customer handed over some green pieces of paper to which the seller exchanged for some little round silver things.

"Here's your money back, buddy."

_Money. Huh._

And mystified, I continued on.

To this day, I can't tell you what made me notice them.

I won't say fate 'cause that sounds trite and bloody ridiculous.

I won't say love at first sight because I was just a kid and not really up for something that intense.

It was just . . . something.

They were walking together, holding hands.

A tall older man and a little girl.

They were smiling.

They were happy.

"Well, what did you think of the movie, my darling Alice?"

_Alice?_ I wondered, mystified and creeping closer. _Like _The_ Alice of Legend? _

And saw her more clearly.

No. Not the Alice of Legend. She had been blond.

This one was black haired in a high, bouncing ponytail.

She was wearing a pair of dark blue pants, jeans I think you call 'em, and a white tshirt with a big pink butterfly.

Her bright, smiling face gazed around joyfully at everything and especially at him.

Her father.

I think that's why I didn't immediately recognize her when she came into me world years later.

That smile.

She had changed so much.

Her face then so young and hopeful and free.

And later, all grown up. Angry and determined and hard.

It was like she had lost so much, hurt so much.

"Oh Daddy, wasn't it great?! The cowboy was so funny and Buzz Lightyear didn't even know he wasn't a real . . ."

A boy who was a _cow_? What kind of world have I fallen into?

Curious, I followed them. Hoping I wouldn't be seen.

I wasn't. There were so many people on the sidewalk that they never even noticed me.

The girl kept yammering and her doting da didn't seem to mind at all.

_Parents who really listen and care and spend time with their kids? Blimey, maybe this place isn't so bad. Even with the cow-boys and what not._

The exuberant little girl and her smiling father turned and ducked into a doorway.

I didn't go in.

Thought I would be too conspicuous.

So I found a window and peered in.

The man had given more pieces of paper to a man behind a long, white counter.

And gotten two plates of white and red triangles back.

And cups of dark liquid.

And loads of napkins.

He brought them to a table to the little girl who cheered and immediately began picking off the red circles and stuffing them into her mouth.

I watched them.

I wanted to be with them.

I wanted to _be_ them.

"Hey," I blurted out as a guy with long red hair and a backpack walked by. "What's that?"

I pointed at the food in the shop.

"Pizza, bro?"

The word sounded mystical and inviting.

"Pizza," I repeated wonderingly.

I had the guy's full attention now. Which probably wasn't a good thing.

He was staring at me like we Wonderlanders stare at Oysters.

_I'm an _Oyster_ to this guy now?_

"Don't tell me you've never had _pizza_, bro."

I shrugged trying to concentrate on the conversation.

But I was a kid.

And that 'pizza' smelled _good._

"I'm . . . uh . . . not from around here."

He raised his eyebrows as if calling 'Jabberwock dung'.

"Pizza's everywhere, bro."

I shrugged, completely failing to create anymore dazzling conversation with this Oyster who thought _I_ was an Oyster.

He clapped me on the back . . .

"You should totally do pizza, bro. It's amazeballs."

_Amaze-balls?_

. . . and off he went, disappearing into the crowd.

I stayed a few minutes longer, watching the girl and her father sipping drinks out of red cups.

Laughing and smiling.

And doing pizza.

My watch-thing beeped, signaling my time was up in this realm.

And I reluctantly turned away from all the bright, happy, warm, smiling people.

And their amazeballs pizza.

* * *

When I returned into the Looking Glass room, it was deserted.

I was baffled.

'_Ello? Really? Nothing?! Well, bully for you then._

I snuck out of the Looking Glass room, smell of pizza still lingering in me nostrils.

When I got home, me mum was in a right fit.

"Boy! Where you been?! Mummy's been all tied up over you!"

_Really? Why? _

"It's been days and days since I've seen you!"

_Oh bugger, she's had too much Tea again. _

But she was right.

I had been gone for several days.

And when she leaned in and asked for me to run out and pinch some more Tea, I'd wish I'd never left.

Or at least tried some pizza first.

* * *

So there you have it, ladies and gents.

I met Alice before I met Alice.

Hell of a worlds, ain't it?

* * *

**Sounds made-up, don't it? **

**Yeah, I'd think so too. But I was there and that's what happened. **

**Thanks to HardFaceQueenOfMisadventure, Penelope Zozes, and Analinea for gracin' me review pages with your words. Lovely ladies, you are.**


	12. Ah, Carlotta St Delaware

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Though it's really me story anyway.

Not So Mad

Ah, Carlotta St. Delaware

* * *

Even now the name itself causes me to break into a wicked smirk that, in turn, causes shrewd Alice to raise a questioning eyebrow in me direction.

Ah, Carlotta.

She was lusty, busty, and quick with a stick.

Switchblade, I think you might know 'em as.

And there was always more to her than met the eye.

Sorta like another girl I know in that respect, yeah?

Well, anyway . . . Carlotta, Carlotta.

More intricately woven into the fabric of my Wonderland existence than any tapestry in the Queen's boudoir.

And as changeling as a chameleon to boot. Without even altering her features.

And what brilliant features she had.

Dark, smooth, ebony skin. High cheekbones, bow lips, long lashes.

Brilliant green eyes, startling in their contrast to the dark rest of her.

Perfectly formed, uh, assets.

Even so, with all her loveliness, you never quite knew who she was going to be until she was there in all her glory.

A homeless street urchin, dropping all kinds of consonants like morning hotcakes. Ready to cut your throat for a song.

Or needed information.

Another time, she could parade coyly as a coutured, high class lady of the Queen's court. With flawless speech and effortless mannerisms.

And still ready for a scrap. Verbally in that guise, of course.

She could skewer most people as easily with her sharp intellect and wit than a brave knight with a ready sword.

Well, not _Charlie_. But some other knight, per'aps.

Always in control, always smoothly self-assured.

She was a mystery to me.

And completely unattainable.

Because whatever else she was, a Resistance fighter, a spy, a curiosity among a world of curiosities, she was always, at her core, her.

And she'd never let me touch her.

Drove me crazy during our business exchanges, that girl did.

Hug all up against you, her emerald gem eyes promising all sorts of secret delights.

Then as soon as you agreed to whatever terms of the business arrangement she would accept, she'd saunter off, leaving you and your, ahem, _dangling_ _participle_ alone and in a quandary in regards to what exactly had just transpired.

I managed to maintain pretty well, even if I do say so meself.

Always a challenge, it was. A relief when it was over. A bit of a disappointment as well, if I'm to be honest.

The highlight and frustration of me day.

Whatever day.

I, as it just so happened, had learned by necessity (and a good dose of fun) to be quite the charmer and flirt during interactions with clienteles who needed a little extra . . . encouragement.

But Carlotta was always better.

_Always_.

* * *

I remember the last time I saw her.

A secret rendezvous.

On behalf of the Resistance, o' course.

Some little hidden room in some tumble down shack. One of the countless in Wonderland.

Brought together by way of Dormy by way of Ratty by way of Dodo by way of whomever else might have been imbedded in this intricate network of Wonderlandians in league with the Resistance.

She cut a nondescript figure in her layers of mismatched, yet perfectly fitting, oddly fashionable clothing.

Nobody would notice her in a crowd.

Not unless she wanted them to.

"There's new movement in the Resistance, Hatter."

Her voice was sultry, tinged with Wonderlandish tones. But nothing anyone wouldn't forget in a second.

'Cept me. I can still hear it.

I was mere feet away and standing my ground as the mildly interested Tea Shop con-man.

"Oh yeah?"

She smiled as if she knew all the secrets in all the realms.

"Yeah. Dodo thinks the Stone of Wonderland will be returned to its rightful ownership soon."

I rolled me eyes in cynicism.

"Dodo _always_ thinks that."

A right git he was, most of the time. Always obsessing about the Stone. About the unfairness of my cut. Sometimes I wondered if he truly cared for the refugees of Wonderland at all in his encroaching madness.

Carlotta seemed unperturbed by my lack of enthusiasm.

"Yeah, but word is Caterpillar's in agreement as well, setting about secret plans, preparing secret forces."

That got my attention.

Caterpillar? _The_ Caterpillar?

Still, I couldn't jump up and lick her face like an overeager puppy.

She might think I was a big softie, a pushover.

Instead of a hardened Tea Shop con-man.

"Oh yeah? And what's got Caterpillar's knickers in a twist?"

Her jewel eyes glittered.

"Jack Heart. The Prince of Wonderland seems to have run off with an unknown item of priceless worth. Might be he's not as loyal to Mummy Dearest as once thought."

I scoffed.

"_Really_? The Prince of Hearts siding with the Resistance? I'll believe _that_ when me eyes see it, love."

She shrugged noncommittedly.

"You never know, Hatter."

Edged herself forward, like a fluid, slinking shadow of mystery and beauty and perfection and danger.

"People have all kinds of secrets they keep buried nice and . . . _deep_."

The intentional emphasis on that last word did not pass me by.

She was always doing that. Turning a phrase toward something obviously inappropriate and mischievously wrapping her tendrils all over you in the process.

And now she was practically draped over me.

"What's _your_ hidden secret, Hatter? Knight in shining top hat, are you? Well-hung consort to the Queen of Hearts maybe?"

I grimaced theatrically, stomach roiling on her last words.

"Carlotta, love, I'd rather be chopped into Jabberwock jerky than be anywhere _that_ close to the Queen."

She chuckled lightly, clearly happy to have affected me so.

Then she rubbed her nose lightly to mine as she murmured.

"If you ever cross me, Hatter, you will be. Starting with the family jewels."

And lightly drew a blade I hadn't even noticed was there across the front of me pants, winking devilishly as she backed away, beginning to melt into the shadows.

"You know, you really ought to stop by the Shop sometime," I suggested before me mouth knew it was speaking words. "I'm sure we could find some way to . . . pass the time."

Her green eyes practically glowed as she responded impishly.

"Oh, I don't think that's something we should really be doing, Hatter. I don't believe you could handle it."

Lurid scenes of dark delights flashed through me brains, nearly frying me synapses.

"Oh, I dunno," I quipped easily, flashing me dimples at her. "I'd be willing to give it whirl if you are."

She winked at me.

"Just have yourself some chocolate and cream cake, Hatter. You'll forget all about me in no time."

Then she was gone, evaporated from me senses, nothing left but her surresshing voice.

"Bye, bye, Hatter."

I held me casual pose until I was sure she was gone.

Then I sat me shaky self down on a crate.

And tried to work out all her esoteric meanings as I willed me body calm right back down to a more presentable state.

Took a while, that.

* * *

I don't know what happened to Carlotta after the Queen's reign tumbled down like a deck of cards.

I thought about finding her to say goodbye and good luck before I left to chase after me Alice once more.

But if Carlotta doesn't want to be found, she won't be.

And more often than not, you simply have wait until she graces you with her presence.

And she never did.

I hope she's well and happy, finally free in Wonderland.

But knowing her, she's probably just getting into trouble.

Ah Carlotta, Carlotta.

* * *

**Probably catch some flack from Alice for this little chapter but I promised meself I'd never lie to her. And I won't. Not even over Carlotta.**

**Thanks ever so much to ThatGypsyWriter for chiming in here and there. Not sure about those oven buns, but I will pass said message along. Hopefully she understand then, yeah? Thanks also to Analinea for your review and the Flamenkuch idea. Blimey, they put some odd things on pizza, don't they? **

**Thanks as well to adraluna-amaya for your support in me tale, love.**


	13. Box of Beautiful Mystery

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should tho. It's my story. Partially anyways.

Not So Mad

Box of Beautiful Mystery

* * *

I'm not terribly good at the curior business, as I've told Alice.

Oh but you're so personable and quick on your feet, she says.

Oh yeah, I agree. But honestly, I confess to her, I've a bad habit of being shyte at keeping me fingers off the goods, love.

Which of course irritates her silly 'cause she thinks I'm being suggestive.

Which of course I _am_, I tell her, dodging in for a kiss and a nuzzle as she swats at me.

But I'm also tellin' the truth straight out.

Which she seems to not expect.

Even from me.

And this story.

Which I suppose requires some explanation.

* * *

"It's to go directly to the Clockwork Man, Hatter. No waiting, stating, or otherwise contemplating."

I grinned devilishly.

"No problem, mate. Say, is the senseless rhyming part of me pay as well or what?"

Owl frowned at me and I inwardly sighed.

_No sense of humor, then? Well, off you pop and no extra jollies either, I'd say._

"And who's it from anyway?" I ventured to query of Dodo's birdie little associate.

Who glared through her pointed, smudgy spectacles and huffed her newest indignation at the presumptuousness of me.

"That's not your concern, Hatter! Your concern is jotting this off to its intended quick as a snap if you want your cut from Carpen-"

Then she blanched at her accidental revelation and slammed the door in me face and left me there on her stoop, holding a nondescript medium sized box all wrapped up in twine and brown paper packaging.

_Ooooh, Carpenter, is it? How intriguing! I've heard he juices up some right nice treats for lucky sods courtesy of the Queen herself!_

Now, as a rule, I generally don't like being called away from me Tea Shoppe for an escort like a common sneak, I must admit.

But Dodo had promised a hefty payment and I was, of course, always one to oblige such niceities.

Especially when they were so promisingly mysterious and interesting.

So tucking the package under one arm, I headed off toward the docks.

The Clockwork Man, otherwise known as Clocks, lived in the depths of Wonderland nearly as deep Ratty purported to burrow. He had a straight line on time, it was said and for a song would twirl you about til your insides were right jostled and you were back at your chosen space.

Bunch of hokem and nonsense really, if you ask me. Probably just a Tea high with a lot of suggestion and wishful dreaming more like.

Still, Dodo's price wasn't nothing to turn me nose up to and so I kept up a nice, brisk trot.

_Tick, tock, goes the clock . . ._

The rhyme echoed senselessly in me head, along with a haunting ghost of a unseen time piece.

_Ticking properly all the while . . ._

And began to drive me mad a little at a time.

_With gracious taste and timely style . . ._

Until I finally ducked into an abandoned shack to, uh, catch me breath.

With a stick in me hand. Or 'pocketknife', I guess you'd call it.

A little cut here . . .

_I just dunno what happened, mate._

A little slice there . . .

_'S the way it came to me._

Twine eased down from around the rectangle.

_You know I'm as trustworthy as they c__ome, yeah?_

Careful of the lines and crinkles, lest I should give meself away.

_And that ol' Owl and Duck are a ha' step away from quacks, right?_

And there it sat on the floor, nice as you please.

A plain wooden box.

And the tick-tock louder in me head than ever before.

I opened it careful, like a man diffusing a pinch, uh, sorry, a _bomb_.

And there it lay, nestled in stuffings and cloth, filtering sunlight playing through the slats of the roof, making the thing within the box seem even more mystical and comely.

A clockwork heart.

It was the most beautiful, most intriguing thing I'd ever seen.

Up 'til Alice, of course.

A perfect fusion, a perfect meld, of flesh and blood and time-ticking cogs.

It beat and ticked and flexed and tocked.

Right hypnotic, it was.

I coulda stayed there all day watching it move and breathe.

'Cept of course, it wasn't mine. And I was on a schedule. So I had to go.

But oh, it was entrancing in its perfection.

The centre face of the clock was a light pink, healthily flesh-color and lined with thin blue veins that pulsed as hands, moving slowly around in classic time ticking fashion.

The esoteric numbers, you call 'em Roman numerals, I think, were there too.

All the valves and ventricles and aortas and and atrias and venas and cavas were there above, wrapped around and through and under the time piece itself. Shaped just as they should be and in their proper colors and workings too.

Per'aps a touch more brilliantly colored than normal, I'll amend. After all, it wasn't a typical living heart, was it? Even by _Wonderland_ standards.

Interwoven with the wood and workings of the clock mechanisms.

Fantastic, harmonious, completely functional.

Bloody amazing.

Even the pendulums were there, dangling below, attached by ropes of muscle and twisting tendrils of blood vessels. If I picked the contraption up and set it to tick, they would probably swing with a rhymic, set pace.

I mean, it was a _healthy_ heart and all, so far as I could see.

First time I saw how a camera worked in Alice's world, I nearly had a fit thinking how I wished I coulda preserved the image of that beautiful clockwork creation outside of me mind's eye.

And I really am crumb at drawin' and sketchin' so there was nothing for that either.

Anyway, after hovering over that lovely timepiece for a few more splendid seconds and committing every bit to me holey memory, I reluctantly rewrapped it and continued my trip to Clocks.

His doorway was all carved all up and down in intricate images of mermaids and jack riddles.

Naw, I'm just bein' a cheek, it was all clocks, a'course.

I banged on the door and waited, the image of that fine piece of time floating behind me eyes like a whirring, ticking-tocking dream.

A slit slammed open a few inches up in front of me face and I prided meself on not flinching back.

No words came out of the the dark space beyond, only the sight of two glowing eyes, one mechanical orange, one intense human blue.

Finally, standing on good manners and aplomb, I chose to speak first, seeing as how my host probably wouldn't anytime soon.

"Mornin', mate! Brought you your goods! Fancy opening the door and takin' a peek?"

The slit slammed shut and it was then I noticed the sign at me chest level.

'Knock three times and leave packages outside the door.'

_Huh, not too friendly then._

"Nice sign," I complimented with the silent, heavy door. "No tea and crumpets, then?"

The barrier and its owner remained equally mute.

"Reckon say I just pop off with your treasure for safekeeping, eh?"

Wasn't so much a threat as a general questioning. I mean, the contents of that box were quite valuable 'n all.

Still nothing.

I waited a moment longer, practically listening to the person who wasn't there breathing on the other side of the door.

Finally I blew out me own breath and, defeated by a hunk of carven silence, set the package down.

And walked away.

With a sharp eye on that door.

Bloody thing never did open.

* * *

**'Ello, mates! How you been? Me, I've been good. Always finding interestings here and there, yeah?**

**Don't believe I did that description of the clockwork heart right but I gave it me best shot and I hope you have a little idea of its sublime beauty and mystery now.**

**Anyway, always got to voice me thanks to the loyal readers and reviewers of this meandering tale. That'd be you, DinahRay, ThatGypsyWriter, Penelope Zozes, and HardfacedQueenofMisadventure. **

**See you all again soon, I hope. Cheers!**


	14. Another Name

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should tho. It's my story. Partially anyways.

Not So Mad

Another Name

* * *

Alice just won't believe me. Says I'm pulling her leg.

I can't pull your leg, I tell her. You'll just kick me with it.

This makes her laugh. I don't why. I don't want to get kicked by a karate expert, do you?

Naw, didn't think so.

Still and all, I'm telling the truth.

Because that woman, that Lady, is a Wonderlander through and through.

What? You didn't think I was the only one to ever cross over in pursuit of something, didja?

I crossed over in pursuit of love, of Alice.

Yeah, yeah. Dig at me all you want for being a sappy git, but it's true.

And it's really hard to adjust here.

Buildings on the ground and teeny lil mushrooms and cars and paper currency.

Honestly, most Wonderlanders that pop on over pop right back soon enough.

Just burn out, burn up, or something.

Some though, like her and me, we stay in pursuit.

Me for Alice.

And her for noteriery, for fame.

Her, that Lady.

That Gaga.

First time I saw her singing on the the tellyvision, me jaw dropped open.

"Blimey, that's fantastic! She did it! She really did it!"

And I was so glad for her.

* * *

"I'm tellin' ya, Hatter, one day, I'm gettin' outta here. I'm going somewhere bright and different and free. I'll have all the clothes I ever wanted and I'll be fabulous and I won't have to answer to anybody for myself!"

We were sitting in me office, passing the time. She'd convinced me to unplug the silver headphones I usually listened to music with and "let the magic out into space", as she put it.

So I did. She was a sweet girl and I always liked making her smile.

Even if she did work for the Hearts.

Yeah, you heard me.

That sweet girl with the big green eyes and pouty lips worked for the Hearts. And by default, the Queen.

Oh, and she was smitten with the Prince.

Yeah, you heard me.

The Prince.

She thought he was just dreamy with sky blue eyes and proper English and mannerly ways.

I felt for her, I truly did.

Even if The Prince could have seen past the Duchess (she was much more curvy and forward at the time than my sweet friend), she never would have made it past the Queen.

Because you see, even then my friend, your Gaga, was a free thinker.

Boy, was she ever. The ideas she came up with and chatted about blew me mind. You've probably seen the echoes of them in her attire and music videos.

That's how I knew her, you see. She'd changed her hair and her name and everything else about herself she could in this, Alice's, world.

But when she presented herself as the Mother Monster with all her strangeness, I coulda picked her outta a line up, as you'd say.

And then when she let that magic out into space, it was even more clear.

And even though her sounds don't really appeal to me personally, I always feel happy to know she got wanted.

Freedom. Fame. Fortune.

Because I remember when she sad, frustrated, malcontent.

"I'm so sicka bringing that snooty Queen drinks for her to just throw 'em in the Suits' faces! Or that beaten down husband of hers! And then I have to clean it up! Once she even made me clean her shoes with her smelly feet still in 'em! And the Prince saw, he was standing right there the whole time!"

She, my sweet friend, not the Queen, had been sold as a servant in the Hearts Casino by her Tea-addled father when she was younger. Which as I'd told her before, was not the worse thing he coulda done in an emotion-smudged haze.

"Hey," I encouraged. "It's not so bad, love. And you never know, that King of hers might give her the right smack she deserves any day now."

I meant for it to lighten her mood but she only tilted her head at me in frustration.

"That's not enough, Hatter! I don't wanna just get by and survive! I wanna be seen! I want everyone to know me! _I_ want to be the_ Queen_!"

I shook my head in disagreement, smirking fondly at her.

"Naw, love, you're too good to be a smarmy _queen_. You're too much of a _lady_."

A smile, a real smile, started to find its way onto her uniquely lovely face.

"Besides, you're gonna get free of her, I gotta a feelin', love. You just wait, it'll happen."

She smiled, big and bright then. Kissed me on the cheek.

"You're the best, Hatter!"

And off she went, humming something deep and throaty and slightly happier than the forlorn tunes that usually followed her wake.

It wasn't long after that she stopped coming by me shoppe to chat. I wondered if the Queen had gotten carried away in a fit o' manical rage or something. I asked around but nobody seemed to know.

Eventually, I just hoped for the best for her and moved on with me life.

* * *

Once, Alice teased me a little.

Call her up, she said. Say hi, congratulate her.

I chuckled at her, my naive Alice.

Why in the worlds would I want to do that, I asked her.

She looked confused, of course she would. She's always so direct.

Because she was your friend, she countered.

Exactly, I replied. So if she was my friend, why would I want to remind her of how miserable she was back then? A good friend would let her move on with her life and be happy, not upset her all over again with remembrances and such.

Alice had no answer to this.

But she hugged me real tight then.

And I let her.

* * *

**Hey, let's keep this on the downlow, as you'd say, yeah? Wouldn't want anyone gettin' all riled up, would we? Naw.**

**And thanks again to you, DinahRay, and your lovely enthusiasm. ;)**


	15. Author's Note

**Hello wonderful ones,**

**Due to some sudden unforseen big dramas in my life, I've decided I must take a February sabbatical from my beloved fanfiction.**

**I promise I'll return in March and we'll continue to enjoy the heck out of these wandering tales.**

**You are under no loyalty to post a review response to this announcement of mine. I just didn't want to abandon these special characters and you my loyal readers without some explanation as to why.**

**Some if not all of you would either have been offended (understandable) or concerned (so many of you have shown me kindness over the years) and I appreciate and respect you too much to be so rude and uncaring to youin return.**

**So take care of yourselves and I'll see you again (relatively) soon.**

**Happy fanfic-ing!**

**Your joyful ('cause i choose to be) storyteller,**

**Not Marge**


	16. Me and the Genderless Narcoleptic

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should tho. It's my story. Partially anyways.

Not So Mad

Me and the Genderless Narcoleptic

* * *

Beating it. They were beating it.

Kicking and punching and spitting.

It was awful.

And they weren't even Suits but Wonderlanders.

Regular old Wonderlanders.

I wish I could say they were strung out on Tea.

But I never knew.

They knew something though.

They knew the feel of a sledgehammer punch to the face.

And that was even before I had a sledgehammer.

I was just really angry.

They knew the feel of the backs of their heads slamming against jagged brick.

And they knew the fear of a dark spoken threat.

"Bugger off or I'll toss over the side, ya wankers!"

And they went.

Wiping blood from their faces and dirt from their trousers.

I turned then and saw it for what it really was.

Something.

See, that part's never been exactly clear. And I've always been too much of a gentleman to ask.

It had a mustache and a lot of thick, shoulder length wavy hair.

It had a furry sorta coat.

And boobs.

I think.

"Thank you, sir," it wheezed, attempting to heave itself upright. "I hate when that happens."

I couldn't resist raising an eyebrow even as I reached down to lend a hand.

"You don't say?"

And when it offered nothing more, I continued.

"Happens alot, does it?"

It stood mostly upright now, not even reaching me chin.

"Well, such is Wonderland," it tossed out, attempting to sound casual.

I eyed it closely.

Had it been knocked about the head one too many times?

"Well, thanks for the help," it smiled, little white teeth showing through the thick 'stache.

And began to head off.

"Wait, where you going?" I called out suddenly.

It gestured with a stomped-on hand.

"Teashop! Best Tea in all of Wonderland! Cut you in on a deal!"

I shook me head.

"No thanks."

It shrugged.

"Alrighty, then! No sugar outta my tea!"

And scampered off.

Later, after me grand shame and demise (set down in another story, thanks very much), I was offered a job in said Teashop.

Which I took.

And met it again.

"Oi, you!"

"Well, hello, sir! How've you been?"

"Eh. Yourself?"

"Oh, can't complain."

_Speak for yourself, ya bafflin' git._

It felt asleep upright then, startling me something fierce.

"Bloody hell, you all . . ."

And popped back awake like a cuckoo on a dream clock.

"And don't worry, sir. Now that you're here, things'll be looking up in no time!"

I raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Oh yes, sir. I've got a good feeling about you."

I ruminated upon its lunacy for a moment.

"You always so . . ."

_Mad?_

". . . cheery?"

A big, blazing grin.

"Oh yes, sir. It pays to keep a positive outlook, you know."

I peered at it closely.

It seemed to squirm under me observation.

"Huh. Well, see you around then . . ."

"Dormouse, sir!"

Of course. Because that made sense.

"Yeah, cheers, Dorms."

And bugger all, it was right.

Thing did get better.

'Course it took a while.

And a revolution.

And an Oyster named Alice.

* * *

**Bugger, it's been a while, mates! Sorry 'bout that. Must've fallen down the rabbit hole, yeah? ;)**

**Anyway, thanks to DinahRay, HardfacedQueenofMisadventure, and ThatGypsyWriter for those lovely reviews back oh so long ago.**

**Thanks also to Draco167 and kiz1989 for adding your support to this tale.**

**If you're still out there, I hope you enjoy this new chap. If not, I understand. :)**

**Until next time, whenever that may be.**


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